


Mine

by emotionalsupporthufflepuff



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe - Dark, Blood and Gore, Dark Draco Malfoy, Dark Hermione Granger, F/M, Implied/Referenced Torture, Loss of Virginity, Mild Smut, Oral Sex, Possessive Behavior, Stockholm Syndrome, Wartime
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-15
Updated: 2020-01-25
Packaged: 2021-02-25 04:53:21
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 4
Words: 7,965
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21810367
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/emotionalsupporthufflepuff/pseuds/emotionalsupporthufflepuff
Summary: When Hermione is dying as a prisoner in Malfoy Manor, Draco makes her a deal to save her life.
Relationships: Hermione Granger/Draco Malfoy
Comments: 60
Kudos: 622
Collections: DH





	1. Part one

**Author's Note:**

  * For [corvids_5](https://archiveofourown.org/users/corvids_5/gifts).



> R- Merry Christmas! Here's a dose of Dark! Draco for your life. It's not at all what you asked for but I hope you like it anyway. Parts 2 and 3 will follow shortly, promise :) 
> 
> Everyone else- HI! This work is dark! please please mind the tags. It won't be to everyone's tastes and that is ok!
> 
> ***I own nothing and make no money from this****

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> One of the screams is distinctly shrill, feminine. For weeks he won’t let himself see who it is in fear he knows exactly who it is from the distorted sound of her words and the way her “ O “ sounds are perfectly rounded like her penmanship.

The screams rise up from below him and it reverberates through the floor, through his soul and out of the top of his skull to bounce around the cavernous manor ceiling. The cellar turned prison houses several Order members captured in a raid on one of their hideouts. Interrogation for the location of Harry Potter began the moments they were dragged through the wards of the house turned fortress. 

The walls, the grounds, all of it impenetrable. Nothing gets in. Nothing gets out. 

( Get out. Get out. _Get out!)_

One of the screams is distinctly shrill, feminine. For weeks he won’t let himself see who it is in fear he knows exactly who it is from the distorted sound of her words and the way her “ O “ sounds are perfectly rounded like her penmanship. 

Eventually, he does. It gets to him, crawls under the skin and nests there, the nagging fear and loathsome curiosity. His heart beats so fast he’s sure it’s trying to exit it his body through the scars on his chest and leave him a bloody shredded mess on the floor. 

Even without the light of his wand, he knows her by the silhouette she casts on the dirty stone walls. Hair running rampant, framing her face like a mane, dried blood panting the side of her forehead and cheeks, diminutive stature only emphasized by recent malnutrition, arms so thin she could slip the shackles off her wrist if she wanted too. Her eyes snap to him, burning dangerously, like the lioness in the tall savannah grass, stalking.

( Coming in for the kill. _The kill_ ) 

Her clothes hang in rags covering nothing but only the most private of areas. Dark freckles dot her chest, around her breast hidden only by a dirty white bra. If she let him close enough he could count her vertebrae, her ribs, study the flare of the hips that jut up from the denim pants she’s still wearing. The thin skin stretched over her ribs shutters with every angry breath. Her teeth are bared.

She’d rip his throat out if she could.

He would let her. 

A terrible clanging noise comes from the cell across the way from her. A familiar gangly redhead is spewing curses and animalistic shouts at him. Weasley reaches through the bars wildly gripping and swinging for anything his fingers might connect with. His clothes are all in one piece and he hasn’t lost nearly as much weight. 

The stage was always titled in Potter and Weasley’s favor.

“What do you want Malfoy?” Granger spits at last. Her voice sounds like crunching gravel underfoot from shredded vocal cords. Weasley is screaming utter nonsense and a headache threatens a riot from the noise, so with a flick of his wand, Malfoy silences him. 

“What happened to your clothes?” Draco manages at last.

Something in her eyes changes on a dime. There’s a hole in her defenses and he’s aiming straight through it. The cornerstone to the whole wall that will crumble and leave her vulnerable. Granger shakes her head and lowers his gaze from his, crossing her arms over herself. When she shifts he can see scratch marks crisscrossing along her back, deep, jagged, primal. 

Inhuman.

It dawns on him with a single turn of his stomach who would be capable of such markings, having come up close with those jagged yellow claw-like nails himself but yet to be on the receiving end of there point. 

(They tear away flesh like a peel on an apple. Rip. Shred. Mame. Blood on the snow. Blood on the pavement. ) 

Greyback still has human urges too. He boasts about what he’s done to some of his more desirable victims frequently.

They must think he’s here to do the same. Bile rises to the back of his throat at the thought. 

“Did he?”

“No. He tried to but got called away. “ she curls in smaller around herself.

Turning to leave, he thinks about restoring Weasley’s voice but then leaves him silenced. 

That night he sends a house-elf with one of his white undershirts and the tiniest vial of pain potion he can manage. 

A day later he is on guard duty for the door to the cellar. With all the wards and curses all over the place, it should be the only way in and out. The house is filled to the rafters with shouts and screeches of the other Death Eaters, rejoicing in some victory he wasn’t privy to.

(Because he couldn’t kill the old man. Couldn’t kill. Snape could though. Snape’s voices cracks through his mind like a sheet of ice breaking from a tree to _pay attention .)_

He can barely hear it but the rumbles of a male voice carries up through stone stairs. The only male voice left down there should be muted. With silent movements, he slips back down to the cellar. 

Potter is down there with that fucking cloak wrapped around his shoulders, making him vanished and reappear with movements. He’s working at Granger’s shackles but she’s whispering. 

“Just come back for me -"

“Hermione no-”

Weasley taps him on the shoulder and points to the low roof overhead. A signal for them to leave.

Coward. 

“Listen to me. The snake. Use the sword to kill the snake. It has to be the sword and it has to be the kill. Now, take Ron and go. I’m not strong enough to travel just yet. Come back for me. “

Potter nods and loops a chain around Weasley’s neck with his own and they disapparate without the crack.

“Come back for me. “ She says again to the empty room. 

He stepped on the next step harder so it echoed and she turned, gasping.

Afraid. Caught. Helpless. 

“What are you going to do to me?” its a challenge. Granger wants to fight, she wants a chance to break for it. To run from this place, screaming.

_(So much screaming.)_

Saying nothing and stepping closer he can see that she’s losing color. Her lips are dry, cracked and bleeding. Dark circles ring her eyes and her hands are trembling as the grip the bars of the cell. Nail beds like her lips, worn down the quick. 

The tearing on her back, the wound is probably sustained by dark magic. It will tear away at her magic and then her bit by bit until it consumed everything she has to offer. 

“Why didn’t you stop them? Why didn’t you raise the alarm?” Her eyes narrow and her shoulders shift as the baggy shirt threatens to slip over one.

He can’t answer because he has no answer. No sarcastic remark, no caustic taunt not even a hurtful truth will come to the front of his mind. Hermione Granger is going to die in this shitty prison of a house unless someone from the fucking Order comes for her and gets her out now. 

And still, she’s fighting.

Burning bright. Going for the throat. Going for the kill. 

The need to keep her, to have her at all times cements itself in his broken psyche. The fire lights and it is all-consuming. 

“Why didn’t you go?” He finally asks back knowing she won’t answer. 

Her lips press together in a thin hard line, almost vanishing in her colorless face.

“Potter won’t save you. “ 

“Yes, he will. “

“Not in time. “ 

Her eyes widen in shock for a moment before schooling themselves back into a mask. 

“Yes, he will. Or someone from the Order will. “ 

He shakes his head and chuckles, low, dark, haunting the echoey room until Granger actually looks scared. 

“Potter isn’t strong enough and his brains are currently standing in front of me in my shirt. Be good Granger and I just might keep you. “ Draco leaves without a second glance back to her. 

When they ask what he was doing in there he says he thought he heard something but it was just Granger talking to herself.

No one checks to see that Weasley is gone for hours. They take their wrath out on Granger, who doesn’t crack, who hardly even screams. 

Until she does. Its blood curdling, wretched, filled with pain and filled with a promise of revenge. 

Draco goes to the cellar the next day and Granger doesn’t even rise from where shes slumped against the wall, just glares at him from the floor.

“I have an offer for you.” He says, crouching down to her eye level. 

“I refuse.” She says outright, cutting through his words.

“Be mine. And I’ll give you everything you need and everything you want. “ 

She snorts. “You wouldn’t like what I want. “

“Try me. “

She deadpans. “I want to go back to the Order so I can put you and your kind in Azkaban. I want to live even though I’m a muggle-born and I want to kill You-Know-Who. “ 

He grins in spite of himself. “The only thing I don’t want off of that list is to go Azkaban.” 

“Oh and here I thought we would come to an agreement.” she fakes a pout. 

“Maybe tomorrow. “

“I’d rather die on this floor.”

“That’s a very real possibility.”

And he leaves her in the dark. 

The next day he goes to see her and she doesn’t crack again. Nor does she stand. Her strength is slipping like water in her palm. 

“Be mine.” it’s hardly more than a whisper and even less of a hope.

“Fuck off.” she spits back. 

Days march on and Granger holds out for four more. Each day she still fights back, refusing to break. 

On the dawning of the fifth day, Draco finds her laying flat on her back on the stone floors, tossing her head from side to side, mumbling incoherently, delusional with fever. 

She turns her head to the noise of him but can’t seem to find his face, her eyes darting around the room wildly. 

“Hallow. We need the Hallows.”

“Granger?”

"Stone. Cloak. Wand. Hallows. “

“That’s a children's story. You’re cracking up finally.”

She shakes her head violently. “Dumbledore. Wand.”

( _Dumbledore falling off the Astronomy tower like a puppet whose strings had suddenly been cut. Twisting grotesque shapes)._

She begins to sob wildly as Draco leaves the cellar and heads to the family library. 

The next day she watches him. Her fever has turned to a cold chill that stains her lips blue. She’s covered in the same layer of grime that coats everything down here eventually. Before the words can tumble out of his mouth, she speaks. 

"They aren't coming for me. " 

“Not in time.”

“No.” she agrees

"What do you want Granger? " 

"I want to live. But I'm dying. I want to kill Greyback but I'll never get the chance. I want...revenge...for being abandoned but…" tears rolled down from the corners of her eyes, streaking through the dirt on her hollowed-out cheeks. 

"Say you'll be mine and you can have everything. " 

"Everything?"

"Yes." 

Her lips tremble for a moment. “I’m yours Malfoy.“ 

He nods, face still a mask etched from stone. “I can move you tonight while everyone else is gone. “

She’s made it 19 days in the cellar. Most prisoners don’t make it 3 before cracking under the pressure, a few more hours won’t make a difference. 

Her magic must be keeping her going. Raw. Powerful. Untapped.

His father is waiting for him at the top of the stairs, leaning more heavily on the walking stick that he’s never actually needed before. Eyes the color of day-old snow appraise him before finally speaking. 

“ I get this distinct feeling I’m either going to be extremely disappointed or extremely proud of what just happened down there between you and that...girl.” 

“She’s about to tell me all the things the others couldn’t get out of her. All without losing a brilliant tactical mind that’s been betrayed by the Order. Information that is given to us freely. Not to mention morale hit to the Order and its supporters. “ 

He turns the silver snakes head in his palm again and again as the light reflects off of its pristine surface. 

“And you intend to…”

“Keep her. She’s mine. I’ll heal her and bring her back to her fighting condition.“ It comes out in a snarl, more defensive than he means to show but his father doesn’t flinch. 

Lucius starts to tap the stick in his palm in an unfamiliar rhythm. “What an honor it would be for the Malfoys to bring such a wealth of information to the Dark Lord. We could be forgiven for all previous...trespasses. What shame about blood status though.” 

“What a shame she was adopted and raised by muggles. Probably too afraid of her magical heritage to tell her. “ Draco meets his father’s hard gaze. 

His father’s lips curl into a cat-like smile. Cold. Calculating. 

“Indeed. What a shame. Do make sure she’s comfortable and _secure_ Draco, we wouldn’t want this to go astray hm? “ with that he turns on his heel and he’s off for towards the large main fireplace. 

That night when Draco moves her into his quarters, the fever has a vice grip on her again and her eyes flutter, struggling to stay open. She can’t stand and her head rolls from side to side, nonsensical words trip past her broken lips. Weighing nothing, shes molds herself against him as he carries her up the steps and straight up to his room. 

She hardly stirs when he strips her of her filthy clothes and burns them in his own fireplace and only makes a noise of protest when he goes to catalog her wounds all over her body, using all her strength to try and stand in front of the fire. 

Scars on her thighs mark just how close Greyback got to his goal. Anger rolls through him as he swears to kill the werewolf even if he has to do it with his own bare hands. 

Turning her back to him he remembers the song- like incantation Snape taught him for wounds festering with Dark Magic. It comes off her waves with twisting dark edges. The scarring has already set in, dittany won’t do any good now. 

“I’ve got you, you’re mine now.” He whispers soothingly against her temple helping her into a bath. 

“Why?” she finally manages after a moment after the water has settled over her skin. 

“I’ve already told you why. You are mine and I take care of what is mine.” 

Her breathing steadies out as he concentrates on her hair, using his wand to make a clean stream of water. Her abused body makes him see red and raze all of England to rubble for it. 

( _But I’ll leave that to her. Her revenge will be worth it. )_

Her eyes meet his and the fire he saw just days ago is dead. Gone. Dark eyes are bottomless with a depth of fresh pain. 

“I’m a virgin. So you know. “ There's no fear only resolve to soldier on. To keep surviving no matter the consequences along the way. Disgust makes his nose crinkle as he scoffs.

“You’re mine forever. When you’re ready you’ll be begging me for it, Granger. “ 

She hums a noise of disagreement and lowers her gaze turning away from him, not expending precious energy on bickering. 

She doesn’t ask when he comes in with new clothes in her size. When she lays down in his bed she curls herself up tight into a ball. 

Small. Diminutive. Less than

(He hates it. She should never be small. She should throw herself wide across the mattress demanding the bed to herself. ) 

***

Papers appear the next morning. They document a half-blood witch born on Sept. 19th at St. Mungo’s and give up for adoption at an undisclosed location. 

***

Hermione sleeps for days only waking for a bite of food kept warm for her under a charm.

While she sleeps he wards the room within an inch of its life and volunteers himself for some shit mission at Hogwarts. 

When he slips away to the white marble tomb that miraculously lays undisturbed for this long, his lungs start to feel too small for his chest. He can feel the hum of magic radiating from it, calling him, urging him on. 

The heavy lid squeaks and scrapes in the protest of being removed but before it is all the way off the wand flies to his fingers. It screams at him, begs him to do something, anything to bring its power to life. His lips are dry and his lungs are empty and he suddenly understands what has to happen in order to get everything he ever wanted.

He sets fire to the surrounding woods, just to watch them burn. 


	2. Part 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The doors finally finally open and she comes out, shaking and supported by his mother but wholly intact and alive. The ghost of a smile brushes her face when she sees him. “It’s all done. I did it.” Her voice is weak and hardly carries but her feet still push her forward because she’s Hermione Granger and not even the Dark Lord can stop her.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 1\. ) I really appreciate the positive response this got! So much so I'm determined to update from my phone in between errands . Please be extra forgiving of typos. 1-24-20 : I finally went back and edited the typos! 
> 
> 2\. Co dependency and Stockholm syndrome are MAJOR themes in this part . If this bothers you in the slightest please proceed with caution!

He can’t help but watch the way her hands slid up and down the wood’s smooth surface, her palm twisting around it in almost an obscene motion. A new wand, similar to the one she had before but this one is black, plain, perfunctory. It’s not as pretty or delicate as the first.

But neither is she. She’s still brilliant and powerful, but she was broken down and rebuilt into something far more dangerous.

“ I love it. Thank you Draco,” she says, dark eyes bearing into his grey. She wants something, to hear his praise, to touch him, to have him.

Not yet. It’s not time yet.

Her face is filled out, her skin no longer sickly pale, hair restrained in a bun on top of her head. Full breasts stretch tight the fabric of the new robes he purchased for her, far nicer than any she's owned in her life.

Only the eyes are different. They no longer burn with brown fiery hues but instead reflect like a black pool of water.

( and if I'm not careful I will drown. )

It’s been a long recovery. The dark magic didn’t want to let go but after weeks of repeatedly using _Vulnera Sanentur_ ; to allow the wounds to heal she’s finally ready to leave the bedroom.

“I want you to test run it. Come, I have another present for you, but it’s the cellar. So you’ll need to be strong. Can you be strong for me Hermione?”

Her chin tilts proudly in a way harkening back to their very first days knowing each other. “ Yes, sir. “

He brushes a gentle kiss against her lips as she presses back, harder, full of longing. “Good. Let’s go.” he takes her hand and leads her to the awful room where he found her.

Greyback is there, chained by the neck like the animal he is, gnashing his teeth and snarling, saliva hanging from his chin. Hermione grips his hand tightly but doesn’t shy away.

“Brave girl.” He whispers against her temple, inhaling her scent and she tremors at the praise.

“Thank you. What do you want me to do...to do it?” she can’t rip her eyes away from the terrible sight.

He stands behind her, guiding her by the elbow to stretch her arm forward. “Before you say the incantation I want you to think about how you ended up here. Think about what he did to you, think about how they left you, even when they were right here. How Weasley told Potter to go on without you. After all, you did for them...that’s how they repaid you. To leave you here to die, a victim to the likes of him.” He hardly had to raise his voice above a whisper but she hangs on every word. He could feel the darkness in her twisting at the edges of her magic, begging for release.

( But you're never going anywhere. You belong to me. )

“ Cruico.” To him the word was simple and no longer carried the fowl taste it had for so many years ago.

“ Cruico!” she cried out pushing the magic through the wand, sending the werewolf into uncontrollable spasms and grunts of pain but not nearly the amount that it should be.

His other hand snakes down to her waist, brushing the underside of her breast as he lays his palm over her hip bone, tilting her stance slightly.

"Try again. If you do a good job I'll reward you. "

Shivering, she tries again. Better but not quite. Greyback jeers at her incompetence and she turns to him.

" You need to mean it. Really feel it. This is the first step to getting what you want. Think about what you're parents did to you."

"My parents- "

"Lied to you. They set you up for failure because of their own fear. "

Her shrewd mind tries to reconcile this with whats shes thought previously. It is the weak link in the chain he’s made to keep her in. She doesn’t need to believe it wholeheartedly, just enough to see them through this nightmare.

She tries again and it’s still not up to the effect it needs to be. Draco casts it at the werewolf easily, still using his hawthorn wand, the elder wand stash away safely elsewhere.

“I’m disappointed, Hermione. I guess we’ll find you another wand and try again later.” He doesn’t look at her as she says this and keeps his eyes trained on the werewolf. “You’re not strong enough yet.“ He’s moved away from her, no longer making physical contact.

Hermione worries her lip turning it swollen and bright red. “One more time,” she says gathering up her resolve and the last of her physical strength. She squares up her shoulders and whispers the incantation like a threat at Greyback.

The light that emits from the wand is blinding and the roar from Greyback is deafening and the world is ending all at once. The werewolf’s eyes bulge like he’s being squeezed to death and his teeth rip through his tongue as blood gushes down like a waterfall from the mouth and down his hair covered chest.

When it’s over shes shaking and panting as if she’d just run for her life. Draco blinks into focus adjusting his eyes to the darkness again. Greyback is unconscious and limp against the wall.  
She turns to him, eyes wide and pleading. For a few seconds, he wonders if he’s done too well if he’s created too much dependence, but it’s too late now. He must see this through.

( If they are found out now they face a fate worse than death. Fate. Fate can fuck right off.)

Lips twitch into a smile because he can’t help it when she looks like that. He pulls her into his arms and holds her against his chest while she catches her breath.

(Eventually, the shaking subsides. The first time it happened to him Bellatrix just let him collapse on the floor. The ache of his skull hitting comes back in an echo of pain.)

“ Good. Very good.” He slants his mouth over hers and tastes her lips against his. The Dark Magic coils around them both, binding them closer, deeper, inside. Tongues swipe against each other before pulling apart. “You need to eat first and then you can have your reward.“

That night he makes her come on his fingers, stroking the spot within the that made her mewl until her breath shuddered. He laved his tongue over each dusky nipple, taking each taunt peak in her turn until overstimulated made her cry out in pain.

She begged and begged and begged. Sweet little moans and promises tumbled over-eager lips.

He holds out insisting she wasn’t ready yet but did give in as she swiped her pink tongue across the tip of his cock, cleaning off the bead of precum that had accumulated. Taking him all in her soft mouth with swollen lips wrapped tight around the base, he gripped a handful of her curls and gasped for air.

It felt like heaven, like dying the sweetest death and his soul was leaving his body. Lights popped and colors were brighter. Somehow he managed to choke out praises though he was sure that he couldn’t actually make real human speech. When he spent his seed down her throat she swallowed it all, staring up at him with those almost pupil-less eyes he was sure he was going to come completely unglued at that moment.

They slept that night with limbs intertwined, nose to nose, stealing the breath from the other.

For three more days they practiced torturing the werewolf. On the last day, he turned to her. “ You know what you need to do next.”

She nodded “ _Avada Kedavra_.” And Fenrir Greyback was dead, hanging from a chain in the cellar.

“You're ready. You’ll need to meet with the Dark Lord as soon as possible and tell him everything you know about the Order. Tell him freely and less Occlumenacy he’ll use on you, less painful that way. “ He tugged her hand and started to move towards the main house.

“ Draco...I don’t know. I thought ...I thought we… “

As quick as his reflexes would go Draco grabs her jaw, and pulls her into a punishing kiss. There is no sweet tenderness, no romance only mashing of there faces to keep her from saying the words out loud.

He rucks her shirt up over her bra and runs the pad of his thumbs over each bud and nips at her earlobe. Her breath rattles against him as she claws into his arms. 

“ I have a plan.” He pushes harder and she cries out in more pain than pleasure. “I will tell you after you meet with him.” His words are muffled against the soft skin of her neck. Her hips rub again his and he bites hard at the tender spot where neck meets shoulder. “ You are mine and you need to trust me.” His tongue flicks out over the spot he bit, soothing the burn. Hermione claws at his back, finger threatening to tear him apart as her whole body quakes.

“I’m yours I’m all yours, I trust you, please just…” her finger dances down to his belt buckle and she tugs making her desires known.

“I said you’d be begging for it.” pushing off her he takes a shoulder in each hand. “Tell the Dark Lord everything. Be the brave little Gryffindor I know you still are.”

That night she stands in front of him in black lingerie, stockings, and heels, shifting her weight from foot to foot, trying to hide how uneasy she is. When he shakes his head and focuses his gaze down to a button on his sleeve, she stalks away, sliding the long robe over her head where it covers her to the ankles and up to the collarbone.

“This isn’t exactly sexy.” She mumbles looking at herself in the full-length mirror.

He scoffs and shakes out his sleeve. “That doesn’t matter. I know what’s underneath and I’m the only one who needs to know.”

(Dark freckles splattered across her chest. The same that dot across her nose and under her eyes. The flawless expanse of her thighs as they shake around his fingers-)

Shaking his head again desperate to regain the focus. “Are you ready? “

Slipping her wand into her robe sleeve, she nods, with her lips pressed together tightly. “If something goes wrong, if he decides I should die instead, thank you for saving me. Thank you, for trying -”

He steadies himself with a deep breath. “Hermione, there’s no reason anything should happen so don’t talk like that. “

“ But- “

“STOP IT!” he snaps, pointing his wand in her face. “You don’t seem to fucking understand what's about to happen. This isn’t some kind stupid school game where the worst thing that happens is you get detention. There’s no house favoritism or earning points here. It’s proving loyalty to the Dark fucking Lord and if you want us and I do mean both of us, to live to see daylight again, do not play games tonight.”

Her wide frightened eyes search his face, as tears brim along the edges. She stutters and squeaks, gripping at his arms as he points his wand at her. She stumbles over her words for a while before gasping and choking out a sob.” Ok Draco, ok I won’t...No games…”

He exhales, lowering the wand, shaking out the anger that threatens to overthrow all his careful planning. It was a fire that threatened to burn them both if he wasn’t careful. The way forward was so clear if she could just hold it together for one night, and getting her upset wasn’t going to help.

“Good. Let's go.”

****

Draco’s head throbbed with the tension migraine blossoming from his skull. He’s been banished from the dining room and the heavy wood doors have been shut and silenced. The Lestrange place is rank with Dark Magic and it’s like trying to breathe through a straw. His father stands to wait next to him watching the snow drifted to the dark ground outside through the huge windows.

(Seasons had changed and I’d hardly noticed. So wrapped up in her. Consumed.)

(Blood on the pavement, blood on the snow, blood matted in hair, old and congealed. The woods are on fire and the smoke and the magic is suffocating.)

His father’s hand on his shoulder jolts him out of the daze. “If you’ve done the thing properly, you should have nothing to worry about. “ He’s looking straight ahead speaking towards the doors. He’s slightly taller than Lucius now though not as broad in the shoulders but still, his father seems like a looming shadow that stretches to the rafters. “Of course I wish you would have picked someone with better breeding but if this is what gets us back into the graces of the Dark Lord, we can polish her up to acceptable standards.“ He gives the shoulders in his fingers a little shake and smiles.

His father’s approval feels like bitter acid eating away at his insides.

The doors finally _finally_ open and she comes out, shaking and supported by his mother but wholly intact and alive. The ghost of a smile brushes her face when she sees him. “It’s all done. I did it.” Her voice is weak and hardly carries but her feet and still push her forward because she’s Hermione Granger and not even the Dark Lord can stop her.

Not an hour later he finally gives in to her, stripping her of all her fine robes to see her as she truly is. Hair wild, cheeks flushed, lips swollen from searing kisses and a blush creeping up her chest.

Beautiful. Stunning. Enchanting.

Laying her down on the bed, pushing her knees apart he runs his tongue over her seam, diving deep and deeper on each stroke. She keens and pulls at his hair, eager for more. He flicks his tongue over her clit until she starts to buck against him and her grasp is almost painful.

Almost.

She tastes like something sinful and illicit. Something potent he has no business drinking in like this. Spreading her further and wrapping an arm around each thigh so that she’s helpless he devours her until she breaks, thighs shaking and his name a mantra on her lips.

When he finally sinks all the way into her, her face betrays a flicker of pain and he doesn’t dare move until he tells her too. Rolling his hips slowly, her heat feels like it was made for him. Hermione grips the sheets as her arms shake and her mouth opens in silent ecstasy.

Lost to the feeling. Unraveled. Undone.

He knows because he feels the same way. It’s too much, too far in over his head which has been his life for much too long. This is the flood that will drown him and be his demise. He’s spent too soon and grateful Hermione doesn’t know the difference yet.

That night as he traces the constellations on her shoulders, she is quiet in contemplation.

“I understand what you were doing before, but now can you tell me now what the plan is?"

She does understand at last. This memory will appear to be post-sex pillow talk, special only to the memory holder.

"We need that cloak and we need Potter to tell us where the stone is- " he whispers. She stiffens but doesn't turn over. "Then we can do what we need to do. "

"The wand. "

"I have it. It called to me, it was easy to find once I was close. "

"You…you disarmed - that night- " she turns to look at him with wide imploring eyes. She gasps as all the pieces fall into place. "Draco, you could be Master of Death…"

He pushes her hair off her forehead and plants a gentle kiss on that quick and clever mind and chuckles at the thought she would have never made it in Slytherin.

"No my dear, you will be."


	3. Part 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> No burst of light or wave of magic, nothing extraordinary at all. Just her examining the wand as if it where her firstborn just placed in her arms. A grin grows on her face, with a mad laugh bubbling up from perfect pink lips. Her head tilts back as it starts to climb the walls and engulf the room.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wanted to finish this much sooner but the Flu had other plans. I hope it lives up to expectations!

Harry Potter coughed as a fresh clump of blood crawled up his throat out and through his lips. Smoke moved lazily around the room as if it had all the time in the world to be there.

Unlike him. 

Ron's flaming hair stood out in the haze, face down and unmoving, legs splayed in an unnatural position. Harry's heart faltered as he realized his best friend was gone like so many before him. At least he hadn't suffered...at least ….

_Hermione’s sunken face flashed before his eyes. They hadn't been able to get back to her time. By the time they were able to slip past the anti apparition wards, the cell was empty._

_Maybe she went in her sleep...maybe she didn't suffer anymore…_

_Maybe_

_Maybe_

A concussion made his ears ring. Was it really just one person who cast that _Bombarda Maximum?_ All he could hear was a single pair of boots stomping around the bow destroyed safe house. What were they looking for? 

The door that was barely hanging on was blasted off its final hinge and thrown to the other side of the room cracking a window from the force. A masked Death Eater scanned the room, lo0oking for traps. When he found none his first two steps were still cautious until he spotted Ron on the floor. He made straight for the body and turned Ron’s face over with the toe of his boot. 

"No….no…" Harry willed his legs to move but they struggled to obey any command. Using his hands to inspect his lower half all he found was a huge gash in his abdomen. Whatever noise he made was enough to get the attention of the Death Eater. He moved from Ron’s body to where Harry was struggling on the floor. 

He knew that walk. That long stride, straight back and bored gaze scanning the room. 

Why Malfoy? And why was he here alone?

Straight above him, Malfoy unmasked himself with a wave of his wand and studied Harry's condition as he had the room before entering.

Cold. Calculating. Cruel. 

It didn’t look like he was going to say anything so Harry struck first.

“Looks like you win Malfoy. Tell me before I die ...tell me Hermione didn’t suffer.” 

Something definitely flashed across his eyes at Hermione's name. He turned away and started ripping open a dresser, tossing the contents on the floor. When he didn’t find anything he turned to an old school trunk in the corner, and immediately found the Invisibility Cloak. After a moment of admiring it, he stuffed it into his inner robe pocket.

“She suffered all right. You didn’t see the worst of it. She could hardly hold her own head up at the end.” He continued sifting through the trunk. Harry’s heart jolted painfully at the thought of Hermione so weak.

“Did you at least put her out of her misery?” he didn’t even know why he was asking, the answer was probably something he didn’t want to know. Malfoy stopped moving and thought for a moment.

“As a matter of fact, I did. I healed her and I made her better, Potter. She’s mine now, she sleeps in my bed, stays in my room- “ a low laugh “ And does a lot of other things you don’t want to know about.”

Disgust colored Harry’s featured. “ What are you on about? Hermione wouldn’t do that with you- “ He remembered Madam Rosemerta and the time she spent doing Malfoys bidding under the Imperious curse. “ You sick fuck what did you do to her?!” 

Within the blink of an eye, Malfoy had a boot digging into the side of Harry’s ribs, pressing down with just enough pressure to cause the air to squeeze from his lungs. “I made her better! I made her the powerful witch she was meant to be! Tell me where the fucking stone is, I know you have it!” 

Harry coughed a blood-filled laugh. “ She really did tell you everything. Merlin…” He rolled his head the other side just to look away from the mad eyes that wanted him to suffer as she had. “Tell you what...Malfoy...find the snitch, for once, and I’ll give you the stone.”

A sharp kick to the head assaulted Harry’s right ear before Malfoy started to ransack the room again. He turned the trunk over off all its contents and a pair of socks with a ball-shaped lump thumped on the wood floors. Ripping them open, Draco examined the little gold ball hidden inside before turning to look at Harry again. 

“Bring it to me, I’m the one whose supposed to open it. Git.” Harry spat out, desperate to keep fighting. “Whatever is happening here, I’m doing for her, not for you.”

“How do you know I’m not lying to you?”

Harry held the little golden ball to his lips and it opened, fluttering its shiny wings. “ You saved her. She must mean something to you, and if that keeps her alive I’ll do it. “ He coughed again, this time more prolonged and painful. Harry pressed his lips to the little golden ball and it opened to reveal a tiny hidden chamber. Malfoy snatched it away quickly from Harry’s grasp and stowed it into a pocket in his sleeve and pulled out a long white thin wand from the same

“With these, Granger can take her rightful place in this world. “ Malfoy didn’t look at him as he spoke, breathing heavily as he looked at the wand. “I can keep her alive now, safe and with me. She’s mine.”

“You don’t deserve her.” Harry snarled from the floor.

“No, I don’t.” Malfoy set the walls on fire before he apparated away. 

***

He was so close. Once again the things he desired most were right within his grasp but there was no more give in his reach.

(He was reaching and kicking and spluttering as the dark water tries to drown) 

A rat scurries along the empty cellar floor, thin and looking for scraps. Draco points the wand at the rat and whispers the incantation, the only one he cannot seem to master no matter how much blood is on his hands, no matter how many lives he takes other ways. 

(Blood on hardwood floors, pouring from giant wounds) 

“ _Avada Kedavra”_ the green light flashes from his wand points and the rat is stunned for a moment and continues its useless search. He casts it again and again, exhausting all his magical energy and a sheen of sweat breaks out above his brow. The spell chips away at the floor and even takes out a bar on a cell but the rat continues to survive. Finally, on his seventh try, anger bubbling over in his veins he screams and casts it one last time.

Finally, the rat stops moving and slumps into a lifeless heap.

 _(_ The kill. _The kill._ Draco you have to go for the kill.)

The master of death cannot struggle this much to kill. Hermione was so quick to kill the werewolf. So effortless. It was like nothing for her to take a life. 

It had to be her and it had to be soon.

***

They stand across from each other in the grand ballroom. Hermione’s shoulders are thrown back and her skin is glowing. She looks every bit like a dark queen ascending to her power and nothing like the scared broken thing he found her as. 

A short sharp nod from him. 

“ _Expelliarmus_ “ the Elder wand flies from his fingers as if he didn’t even have a full grip on it. It lands in her outstretched fingers with grace and Draco braces himself for something to happen.

No burst of light or wave of magic, nothing extraordinary at all. Just her examining the wand as if it where her firstborn just placed in her arms. A grin grows on her face, with a mad laugh bubbling up from perfect pink lips. Her head tilts back as it starts to climb the walls and engulf the room. 

She points the wand at him and wordlessly summons him against his will. His feet can hardly keep himself from tripping as he keeps up with the request. Once she’s within reach, she leaps on to him, wrapping her legs around his waist, one hand tangling deep in his hair and the other desperately pulling at the buttons on his shirt 

“You did it, you gave me everything I wanted. Everything.” the words are distorted as she won’t take her mouth off his. The kiss is painful, it is a demand rather than an act of romance and despite how he doesn’t really fancy getting caught in the throes of passion in his family’s ballroom, his traitorous body says otherwise. 

On the floor, Hermione sits astride him, having divested herself of knickers ( maybe she was never wearing them ) and her dress covers where they are joined. They’ve never been like this before and she rides him ruthlessly chasing her own orgasm and expecting him to do the same, lest someone walk in if they take to long. 

_Draco_

_Draco_

_Draco_

His name escaped her lips again and again and all he can do is grip her hips through the slippery fabric of her dress as every muscle tightens and spots pop behind his eyelids. She stills, her mouth open in a silent release, hair wild and crackling with magic and he finally lets go. 

She leans forward, pushing his sweaty fringe off his forehead and kisses him. 

“You gave me everything Draco. Thank you. Let me give you the world.” 

He’s still on the floor wondering if he’s gone too far when she leaves the room. 

***

There is an empty throne in the middle of the ballroom, illuminated only by a circle of flickering candles. Raised on a circular platform, the ornate wooden chair is carved to look as is it made of snakes intertangled on each other and the candlelight makes it look as if they are in continuous motion. The Death Eaters enter, all of them masked and silent, wands light in front of them. It’s unspoken to give to the throne a wide berth. 

Draco waits by the double doors for her as everyone files past him, nodding respectfully as is due to him. 

The clunk of heels of the wood signals her entrance. Resplendent in a low cut black velvet dress with long sleeves that trails on the floor.

Regal. Elegant. Terrifying. 

A sliver locket the size of an egg rests in safely in her cleavage which lays heavy on her swollen belly. One arm crosses in front of its protectively and the other fingers the Elder Wand as she scans the crowd. 

It’s been 8 months since Hermione made herself known as Master of Death. The duel that dispatched Voldemort was short and casualties were minimal, only taking out a few Death Eaters loyal to his cause. Most of them kneeled with the hour, the rest defected. 

The papers named her Minister for Magic within the week. There was no election, no formal ceremony, only the changing of the titles as the Death Eaters still had a stranglehold on the workings of the Ministry. 

Now as they approached the throne for tonight’s ceremony she gives no signs of weakness to the outsiders. They can’t hear her tired breaths as her lungs are compressed in her rib cage, or hear the scrape of an unsteady gait on the floor. 

All they see is the Master of Death, their Minister, and Dark Lady. 

And Draco, holding her arm, gaze constantly roaming the crowd for threats to his unborn and her.

She takes her seat in the throne and he kneels, grazing her knuckles with a kiss, daring to look up at her as most do not. 

_“Mine.”_ She mouths silently to him.

 _“Yours.”_


	4. epilogue

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The dark waters that have no bottom, the power, and the merciless drive all live within him too. His son takes in the world around him for the first time and Draco can feel his magic intertwining within his.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> SOOOOO remember how I said I wasn't going to write an epilogue? Yeah, I lied I'm sorry.
> 
> Also I have no patience or eye for aesthetics or mood boards so if you are moved to make one please feel free to do so

**Epilogue**

Every midwife healer in the room had been screened thoroughly by legal and not -so - legal means.

The hospital was too dangerous, to vulnerable, teeming with double agents and turncoats and people who might want to hurt them. People who would want the Elder wand while its owner was in her most fragile state. 

So they were here, in a spare room on the first floor of the manor only allowed into that room with the second floor where their quarters and the nursery lay heavily warded and the perimeter cursed to those not belonging. 

Draco knew, knew with every nerve ending and every muscle fiber holding him together he wouldn’t make it without them, both of them now. The insanity that lay mostly dormant only rearing it’s monstrous head when necessary, would rise within and lay waste to everything if he lost them. 

( Tiny kicks fluttering against his palm. His own heart pounding in his chest). 

But Hermione had kicked him from the room and ordered him to “ just go.” He had destroyed 2 priceless heirlooms and a portrait that wouldn’t shut up before his mother talked him out into the garden for “ fresh air “.

Now he made tracks pacing in around the grassy lawn while his mother sat on a stone bench looking quiet and serene. He glares at her and she simply smiles at him.

“You can be Minister of the Universe and Master of everything but nothing will ever come close to your children. You’re learning that today, my love. “

He paces a few more laps and finally gives in to fatigue and sits next to her.

“I think you’re ready to go back in and meet your son,” Narcissa says, ever calm, ever still, taking his hand in her.

Warm. Peaceful. Maternal. 

_ Is it possible for all these to still exist in this world? _

***

With shaking hands, Draco lifted the pink-faced squalling newborn to eye level. A matted tuft of blond hair sticks to his forehead and his fists are curled, angry he’s been evicted from where he is safest. 

“What’s his name?” Hermione asks from the bed. Shes ruddy-faced and exhausted but it doesn’t matter. To Draco, she is the Master of life and death and everything that is precious in existence.

Except for course, this new nameless person. A prince to inherit everything good and bad. 

“You were pregnant with him...when you won the battle...even though we didn’t know.” He starts, unsure if she’ll like where this is going. “You drew from his magic and it made you even more powerful.

Hermione nods in agreement but says nothing.

“Aries,” Draco says out loud for the first time and the baby stops its screaming and calms. He opens his dark eyes identical to his mothers.

The dark waters that have no bottom, the power, and the merciless drive all live within him too. His son takes in the world around him for the first time and Draco can feel his magic intertwining within his.

“Aries is perfect. “Hermione says at last. “I need to rest, he’s all yours.”

“ _ Mine.” _


End file.
